To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
“Radiant as [To the Lighthouse] is in its beauty, there could never be a mistake about it: here is a novel to the last degree severe and uncompromising. I think that beyond being about the very nature of reality, it is itself a vision of reality.”—Eudora Welty, from the Introduction
The serene and maternal Mrs. Ramsay, the tragic yet absurd Mr. Ramsay, and their children and assorted guests are on holiday on the Isle of Skye. From the seemingly trivial postponement of a visit to a nearby lighthouse, Woolf constructs a remarkable, moving examination of the complex tensions and allegiances of family life and the conflict between men and women.
The only Virginia Woolf I’ve read so far is Mrs. Dalloway, which I enjoyed thoroughly. Do I need a better reason to pick through her bibliography?
Nymeth at things mean a lot loved it, particularly its treatment of intimacy and relationships and respectful treatment of its Victorian characters. Anastasia at Birdbrain(ed) Book Blog loved it after having awful luck with Woolf, which bodes well. Ela at Ela’s Book Blog enjoyed it, pointing out how dense it is, despite its page count. Wallace at Unputdownables found its strength lies in how it makes you feel rather than understand, which sounds like the explanations I get for poetry…
To the Lighthouse was published on 1927.